


The courage in her conviction

by vendettadays



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/F, Finding Love, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Pining, Post-Canon, Tenderly Treating Hand Injury, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28936893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vendettadays/pseuds/vendettadays
Summary: Years after the fall of the First Order, the universe with its sick sense of humour brought Rose back into Phasma’s path.
Relationships: Phasma/Rose Tico
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	The courage in her conviction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saiditallbefore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saiditallbefore/gifts).



> **Tags**  
>  Romance - Relationship  
> Gruff Cranky and Worldweary Character Feels Soft for the Sunshiney One  
> Bitter swordswoman with PTSD finds love

Phasma stared down at her ungloved hands. She flexed her fingers, clenched and unclenched her hands over and over again, and watched with silent fascination at the way her bruised knuckles whitened before flooding purple again. The dull throb of pain intensified into sparks with every forced movement. The bloodied cuts on her broken skin opened and reminded her of the abuse she’d put herself through. She scoffed. The other guy had it worse.

Her breath hitched when smaller hands gripped her own. Rose’s hands were smoother, less rough and scarred, but callused in places from years of holding tools and fixing machinery.

‘Stop that,’ Rose chided her with a tut. She tapped her forefinger lightly on Phasma’s wrist.

If anyone else chastised Phasma like she was a naughty child, they would have received the sharp end of her quicksilver baton through their gut. But this was Rose Tico. Only Rose could get away with the things she did or said, because that was just how the universe worked.

Ten years after the fall of the First Order, the universe with its sick sense of humour had brought Rose into her path. But she wasn’t the same person from their last encounter on the _Supremacy._ She still wore chromium armour. Some habits were hard to kick. But over the years the metal had tarnished, spattered with dirt and blood from battles, and no longer shining with a polished gleam. Her helmet had been melted down and reforged into a style that didn’t reveal her as a former stormtrooper captain. That was what she was. A former captain. A relic of the past. A hired sword with no pride to speak of, so what did it matter if her armour looked like shit?

Rose’s usually sunny disposition was grim. Her mouth pressed in a disapproving line when Phasma didn’t listen and tried to move her hands. Rose held firm. ‘You’ll hurt yourself even more, if you keep doing that.’

‘You should have seen the other guy.’

‘I saw,’ said Rose with a roll of her eyes. She rested Phasma’s hands in her lap and pulled the bowl of warm water on the table closer to her. ‘You know, you could have kept your gloves on when you punched that guy. Or actually, you didn’t have to punch him so many times.’

‘Yes, I did.’ Phasma’s helmet hid the intense furrow between her brow. She stared at the thin line of dried blood on Rose’s neck from when the bandit had pressed a knife to her.

Rose sighed, no doubt remembering how Phasma had banged up her hands. She dipped a clean cloth into the water and wrung it out. She lifted Phasma’s left hand and carefully dabbed the damp cloth over her knuckles. An involuntary breath escaped Phasma at the sting, filtering out of her helmet in a hiss. Her chest ached at the undeserving gentleness that Rose cared for her hands.

Despite the tenderness with which Rose treated Phasma, she looked far from relaxed. At least her dark eyes were not wide with fear as it had when she had a knife to her throat. Somehow in the midst of the ambush, Phasma had lost her gloves. She wasn’t sure how she lost them. All she remembered was seeing Rose struggling beneath the weight of the bandit attacking her, then the crack of bone beneath her fists, and spit and blood flying with every punch she landed.

They sat in silence, ensconced in the tiny room Rose had rented for them when they finally arrived in town. Rose focused on cleaning Phasma’s grazes while she, hidden behind the safety of her helmet, focused on every subtle shift in expression on Rose’s face.

Spending half an orbital cycle around this system's star protecting Rose wasn’t enough to erase their history. Phasma clenched her teeth as she was reminded, once again, that her time with Rose was limited. Rose still hadn’t told her how she ended up on this dusty, backwater planet, and so far away from her friends in the Resistance, or whatever it was they called it these days. She wondered about what would happen to her, once they had gathered enough funds to leave this rock on the outer reaches of the galaxy. She doubted the authorities would treat her with kindness for the part she played in the Order. FN-2187 would be the first to take her out with a blaster. And Rose?

Well, she couldn’t answer for Rose.

When her hands were cleaned and wrapped up in bandages, Rose started unclasping the guards on her arms. Phasma sat still and unresisting as Rose removed her armour piece by piece and placed them on the table. By the time she finished, the only piece left was the helmet Phasma still wore. Without the chromium to cover her body, Phasma felt bare and exposed. _Vulnerable._

Rose took Phasma's helmet off. Her expression fell. Her left hand reached up and caressed Phasma’s jaw. ‘Oh, look what you've done to yourself.’

Phasma winced when Rose's thumb barely traced her swollen bottom lip. She gingerly prodded her lip with her tongue and tasted blood.

An exasperated sigh escaped Rose. There was an intense frown on her face like she didn’t know what to do with Phasma. She cupped Phasma’s cheek, fingertips brushing into her short, golden hair as her eyes roved over every part of Phasma’s face.

Phasma sank into the contact and swallowed down the fear that reared suddenly. Without adrenaline coursing through her and driving her movements, and in the quiet of this room with just her and Rose, Phasma realised just how close she had come to losing her.

Just one single moment and that was all it would take for her to lose Rose.

A dulled reaction.

A run that wasn't fast enough.

A slash of a sword made from starship wreck.

There weren’t many things in the world that could stir fear in her. But those thoughts alone were enough to send ice-cold fear through her veins. She pressed her face into Rose’s palm, seeking the warmth and comfort of her touch. When all she had felt was darkness, ground down and brought to her knees from bone-aching weariness, Rose had found her on this forsaken planet and offered her a hand out of the loneliness she had wrapped herself in. 

She had dragged herself out of the fiery wreck of the _Supremacy_ , crawled on hands and knees into an escape pod and slammed the eject pad from sheer willpower alone. She had crashed landed and survived. Time and time again, she survived. Her life had been about surviving, never about living until Rose had saved her.

Words of gratitude didn't come easy for Phasma. So she showed her reverence in other ways. Standing guard through the night when Rose was too exhausted to stop herself from nodding off. In placing herself between Rose and an enemy; her formidable stature a shield against any attack.

She would give her life for Rose Tico.

It was the only language she knew.

‘What are you thinking so hard about?’ Rose whispered. Her fingers weaved into Phasma’s hair, massaging her scalp with gentle, circular motions.

_You._

Rose who was irritatingly chipper, no matter the situation. Rose who held an irrationally positive outlook on life despite all of life’s atrocities. Rose who saved Phasma when she should have been left to die in the hole Rose had found her in.

‘Nothing.’

‘Don’t do that,’ said Rose, hurt flickered in her eyes when Phasma leaned away.

Phasma ducked her head, so she didn’t have to look at Rose. She swallowed at the unbearable tightness in her chest. Her heart leapt to her throat when Rose’s hands guided her head back up, holding her in place so she had no choice but to look straight into warm, dark brown eyes.

‘Please don’t close yourself off from me. Not after what we’ve gone through together.’

At the soft press of Rose’s lips at the corner of her mouth, Phasma’s eyes widened, a breathless gasp of disbelief left her, and her injured hands curled into fists unconsciously. Rose moved back a fraction, still so close that if Phasma garnered her courage, she could close the gap and kiss her back.

‘We’ll get out of here,’ said Rose, voice hard with determination. ‘Together.’

For the first time in years, Phasma felt hope, kindled and kept alight by Rose’s belief in her.

Phasma nodded in reply and Rose’s tender kiss was enough to convince her that there was more for her than the loneliness she had resigned herself to.


End file.
